


fragile as glass

by wuwu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person, Victor's POV, takes place during episode 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuwu/pseuds/wuwu
Summary: “If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium,” he says, “I’ll take responsibility by resigning as your coach.”
The pressure to win the Cup of China is far too great for Yuuri to handle, and Victor aims to get him back into shape. Though, not everything goes as he plans, and Victor finds that he doesn't really understand Katsuki Yuuri.





	

Victor sends a glance down to Yuuri, eyes running over his form as he stretches with nimble limbs. He seems tense, that’s to be expected, but his movements are fluid all the same. His arms stretch above his head and he huffs every few seconds, muscles loosening with every exhale.

Victor turns back up to the ceiling, grimacing at the thrum of the crowd that crawls throughout the building, taunting him-- taunting Yuuri. Their cheers echo in the depths of the parking lot, coursing through his veins. The buildup from the audience only serves as a distraction, and Victor is thankful that Yuuri has his earbuds in. The expectations would surely pile onto him, suffocating him before, during, and after his performance. Victor _tuts_ to himself and begins to formulate a plan on what to do should these jitters persist.

Sparing a glance back to Yuuri if only to be sure he’s still warming up, Victor feels his heart stop as he watches the skater slowly bring his earbuds out of his ears and into his hands. Without thinking, Victor turns harshly on the balls of his feet and steps toward Yuuri, eyes wide and desperate as he stretches his hands out to cover the man’s ears. The earbuds clatter to the concrete, but they’re easily forgotten, ignored in favor of drowning out the praises that surge through the building.

“Don’t listen!” he screams over the noise, begging to whatever higher force there may be that Yuuri didn’t have the chance to focus on the cheers for Phichit.

Yuuri’s eyes are sunken in, despairingly so, as they stare into Victor’s. The temperature drops. Standing there in front of Yuuri feels like a slap to the face. It dawns on Victor that maybe he isn’t such a great coach after all, and though he’s suspected it ever since he left Russia, it still stings like fresh winter snow biting at his skin. Nonetheless, he steels his face with a deep inhale through his nose.

Yuuri sucks in air with ragged gulps, irises quivering as he loses himself in the luxury of Victor’s eyes. He trembles beneath Victor’s fingertips, ears growing warm under his touch. He’s anxious and nervous and overwhelmed and he doesn’t know how to breathe and Victor can barely look at him; he continues to keep an unwavering gaze.

They stand like that for a few more moments, Victor grounding down the swaying Yuuri, only relaxing when another muffled music track plays and dulls down the excitement of the audience. _I understand how you might be affected by other skaters’ standings if you were younger,_ he thinks, _but why is Yuuri so nervous?_ Yuuri flicks his line of sight down to the floor, eyelids lowering as he avoids Victor’s studying, but he eventually brings his attention back upwards.

_How can I motivate Yuuri?_

_I have no idea._

“V-Victor?” Yuuri mumbles. His expression shifts from anxiousness to one of confusion, though his underlying nervousness remains in the shaking of his hands as he grasps Victor’s forearms, lowering his hands from his ears with care. “It’s almost time. We need to get back.”

_Skaters’ hearts are as fragile as glass._

Yuuri ducks his head down and steps away from Victor, downcast and solemn as he begins the trek back to the ice rink. He sways slightly with each step, feet heavy as he walks away. Victor neglects his retreating form for a few moments as he focuses on trying to get Yuuri back into the mood for competing.

_If their hearts are so fragile…_

“Yuuri,” he calls out, voice strong and smooth.

“Huh?”

Victor to grins to himself before turning to face Yuuri, smile gone and replaced with a regretful expression.

_Let’s try shattering his into pieces._

“If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium,” he says, “I’ll take responsibility by resigning as your coach.” His hand smooths down his hair, pushing down the headache that builds beneath his skull.

Yuuri turns around and stares. His breathing stops, his movements halt, and Victor cheers to himself. _Got him._ But as the seconds pass and Yuuri says nothing, Victor feels his confidence drip away. Yuuri’s gaze feels scrutinizing, almost as if he can see right through this farce, but Victor knows that’s impossible. Still, he can feel the pressure in his head build up and fester.

Yuuri cries.

“Why would you say something like that, like you’re trying to test me?” he chokes out. Big, fat tears rolls down his cheeks and over his lip, dripping down into his mouth and over the fat of his bottom lip. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose is dripping with snot, and he quakes with more emotion than Victor thought was possible. Although strong and reverberating his voice is broken, overcome with a swell of despair that Victor assumes Yuuri had been harboring for quite some time.

 _It shattered_ , Victor thinks with a shiver. He had certainly meant to tear down Yuuri and leave him vulnerable, but the arrival of tears and a snotty voice startle him.

“Uh, sorry, Yuuri,” he apologizes. Victor steps forward, hands raised and ready to grasp Yuuri’s shoulders. “I wasn’t being serious--”

“I’m used to being blamed for my own failures!” Yuuri interrupts, voice even more strained through the onslaught of tears that never seem to pause. Victor feels the slightest tinge of regret. “But this time, I’m anxious because my mistakes would reflect on you, too! I’ve been wondering if you secretly want to quit!” Victor lets out the smallest of breaths.

“Of course I don’t,” he assures.

“ _I_ _KNOW!”_ Yuuri lowers his head and screams, throat torn up as he hiccups with paranoia. His words echo throughout the parking lot, hitting Victor with more force every time they bounce back to him.

Victor turns away. “I’m not good with people crying in front of me. I don’t know what I should do.” And he doesn’t. He’s finally at a loss, finally stumped by the man he’s come to care so deeply for. He’d thought of what to do to ignite newfound strength in Yuuri, but he hadn’t bothered to think of the consequences. He never does. “Should I just kiss you or something?” It’s a weak attempt at trying to lift his spirits, because maybe it actually might work, but it seems farfetched. It would certainly come as a surprise to the male and might flood Yuuri with vigor, but the rush from a kiss wouldn’t be appropriate here.

 _“NO!”_ Victor’s heart cracks with the pain in Yuuri’s words, slowly being chipped away with every gasp for air. “Just have more faith than I do that I’ll win! You don’t have to say anything. Just stand by me!”

Time seems to come to a halt as Victor processes his exclamation, soaking in his voiced thoughts and replaying them in his own mind, over and over until he can comprehend exactly what Yuuri wants.

All along Victor had been worried over being a superb coach, making sure to do everything with a purpose, even if the outcome would still be unbeknownst to him. He worked off of what Yakov taught him and used the man’s coaching strategies as his own, mending the lessons to fit Yuuri’s personality. However, even with all the care he’d put into becoming a proper coach, he lacked the ability to properly look after Yuuri. Instead of attempting to understand his feelings and work through these issues, he tried to manipulate what he felt and coerced him into a false reassurance.

Victor had focused too much on how to fix everything, on how to make sure things wouldn’t turn sour, that he neglected the emotions Yuuri had been experiencing in favor of predicting outcomes. Yes, being a coach requires the ability to work with different obstacles thrown your way, but a coach also needs to be able to understand those that they’re teaching. Victor realizes that he can’t get anywhere without considering the crippling apprehensions that Yuuri experiences.

He doesn’t need positive or negative reinforcement. No, he needs someone who can stay by his side and encourage him silently, just by being present. More than a coach, he needs a _friend._

Yuuri lowers his head once more and wipes at his tears, failing horribly as more continue to flow down his cheeks. Sniffles escape him as he attempts to make himself more presentable.

“I’m sorry,” Victor says. He’s quiet, having lost the confidence from before, and instead gaining the sincerity he’s been missing. “I thought I could force you out of this depression, but I was wrong. It seems I’ve been trying to be too much like Yakov and less like Victor Nikiforov.” As he voices his regrets to Yuuri, Victor can feel the tension in his body ease out and the pounding in his head dissipate.

Yuuri nods.

“Yuuri,” he breathes out, stepping forward with careful feet. He brings his hands up to separate Yuuri’s hands away from his face and wipes at his tears, eyes soft and apologetic as he does so. “You’re going to do great. I know that you’ll ace today’s competition, and you’re going to have a guaranteed spot in the Grand Prix Final.”

“Victor, stop,” Yuuri hiccups. “You’re just saying that.” His tone is bashful, his voice is quiet, and his chest expands and deflates with a worrying inconsistency.

“Yuuri,” Victor repeats. He tilts his face up to look at him, forcing him to acknowledge his feelings. “I’m not saying this because I’m your coach, nor am I saying this because _I’m_ your coach. I’m telling you this because I truly believe that you have what it takes to win. You’re passionate and you love to skate, and I’m certain your emotions will be conveyed through the beauty of your performance. Whether you’re good at jumps or presentations or anything else isn’t important. What matters is that you love what you’re doing and that everybody will be able to feel the same emotions that you do while you’re out there.”

Victor smiles at the sight of Yuuri holding in his breath, lips parted as he listens to Victor.

“You always impress me out there,” he whispers. “And I can never look away.”

Yuuri wobbles as he steps closer to Victor, burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the sweetness of his cologne as he nods against his shoulder. His arms grab at the back of his coat and twist the fabric tightly. Victor copies the affection and wraps his arms around Yuuri as well, holding on with loose arms, only to tighten around the younger man as the seconds tick by. He can hear Yuuri release the last of his sobs and sighs at the thought of snot on his coat, but he endures as Yuuri lets out his frustrations.

Victor feels as though he shattered his own heart in the process as well.


End file.
